Waking up in the morning, looking out my fourth story apartment, my eyes are normally disappointed – only greeted by the bland architecture, poorly kept fields, and industrial construction sites of the northwest corner of Heidelberg, all dimly illuminated by the morning still breaking. When the fog is not too thick as I cross the bridge over the Neckar, the castle overlooking the city is normally not yet visible, still silhouetted by the sun behind the Königsstuhl. The daily bus rides into the old part of town, located on the direct opposite side of the city from me, have all blended together into a grey colored mush that I now refer to collectively as my morning routine.
By the time I have eaten breakfast at the American student center, read my daily allotment of emails, and worked on a bit of German, the skies are normally clear enough to see the late morning mists falling through the trees on their way down the hills. It is not until noon that I welcome an interruption in daily tasks – an interruption which occasionally still manages to catch me by surprise. While the culture has become increasingly secular, the architecture still holds a remnant of the religious fervor that Europe once knew and held so close. Heidelberg, like most German cities, is void of skyscrapers. The churches are still the tallest buildings in the city. And at noon, the bells flood the narrow streets, calling the city to prayer.
The bells of the Jesuitenkirche and Heiliggeistkirche probably fall on the dead ears of tourists more often than anything else, but they toll nonetheless for the few people who will listen. How often is it God calls on us in the middle of our day when we least expect it? And then how often is it, later after time to put our day in perspective, we realize how often we failed to listen? How often, like the tourists listening to the bells at noon, do we treat God’s voice as mere background noise?
The Advent season is well underway, and we have been hearing during this liturgical year a series of Gospel readings from Luke. The Evangelist writes about the preparation for Christ – how the entire world was slowly “turned” for a few brief moments to focus on a small manger in Bethlehem. I am not sure if any respectable theologian has ever claimed December 25 as Christ’s actual birthday, but if any have then they have missed the point. The global Church celebrates Advent and Christmas to make sure that, for a few weeks every year, we can be “turned” as well, to focus on what really matters.
It is exciting to wonder what those shepherds were like, abiding faithfully to the Jewish law and prayerfully serving God in small ways. But God rewarded that simple faith and readiness to respond to Him by giving them the greatest news in all of history: Israel’s Messiah is born and you are to greet him. Advent is a time when we, like the shepherds, prayerfully await Christ’s entering into our lives. We see the directions God has laid out for us, and we re- spond generously, allowing God to “turn” our lives as he sees fi t.
As college students, the challenge of hearing those bells ring and taking time out of our day for prayer and anticipation can be quite grueling. During this time we are normally mentally and physically taxed to an extreme thanks to fi nals, involvement in clubs, packing bags, all night writing sessions, Christmas parties, and wishing friends a good break. But are we taking time to fi nd God in the midst? Are our studies merely tools for an eventual career? Or do we see ourselves and our scholarly pursuits subsumed into the plan God has for us, the vocations He wants to bless us with, and the service He wants us to render unto our brothers and sisters? Is our daily labor, and ever our leisure, helping Boston College as a whole to “turn” slowly, in every waking moment, closer towards its broader mission of giving God glory in all things? Our lives often lack bells ringing at noon, reminding us to prayerfully take a knee in the middle of our busy days.
Although it is not always easy for me to see a connection between memorizing a dozen new German verbs and building the Kingdom of God, it certainly helps to have the bells remind me of the bigger picture that I am a part of. Such is Advent. As much as I look forward to seeing my home country once again, I will revel in the last couple weeks here, with the bells there to shift my focus for a few moments every day at noon.
From Germany, wishing everyone back home a most blessed Advent and a Merry Christmas. Max Bindernagel posing in front of one of Germany’s historic cathedrals.
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